Give me a reason
by rockybluewigs
Summary: "What happened to us?" / "I don't know, we just fell apart throughout the years." / Or, how Jack and Kim's marriage fell out. / KICK.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It, I don't own Give Me a Reason by Pink...I own a graveyard. Hah, jk.**

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"What happened to us?"

I don't know, we just fell apart throughout the years."

/

It starts when Kim and I reunited after high school ended. She went overseas to a school I almost went to, and I stayed here in the sunny part of the States. After turning eighteen, I tell my parents to take me to Japan, and they actually agree to it since they were planning to pay a visit to my grandfather. When we did, the both of us meet up and our relationship rekindles. Man, I was happy.

She says she's going back to the US to go to school, while I train myself to be the next generation sensei, and I'm okay with that. She's not that far, and I will actually have time to spend time with my girlfriend that I haven't seen in over a year.

Before I know it, we're kissing under the cherry blossom trees again before I go back home, where I know that I will be waiting.

/

After Kim graduates college, we embark on a long trail and get married in Nevada.

It's a clichéd wedding with an Elvis costume and a champagne bottle, with a musky smell and hearts that are more of a brown color than red. The wedding is hasty, and the only romantic part of it was making love on a bed infested with bed bugs - wait, that's not romantic at all. All in all, it's the _worst_ wedding we ever had.

The back story? Well, Kim's dad still likes me but her mom's more judgmental. And my parents hated her for having man hips and fake extensions. I couldn't believe it, because we were in a relationship before, and they _never_ cared. As a matter of fact, her father is more of a father to me, than they would ever be. He gives me the coordinates to a marriage chapel in Nevada, and we're speeding off to the neighboring state to get hitched.

The next morning, we receive our first hangover ever (as a married couple), and red, angry welts all over our legs with apple-sized bugs crawling on us.

it takes us _months_ to remove the last trace of bugs from our clothes.

/

Things are great for the first five years, until Kim's twenty-seventh birthday, when we find out that she's four months pregnant. That explains the weight gain and the constant throwing up, and especially the moodiness, and the weird cravings for spinach and chocolate. It's so weird; how come we've never noticed?

It occurs to the both of us, after being checked up by the gynecologist, that maybe we weren't ready for kids, especially since we still live in that one bedroom apartment not too far from my job. We have no room, no experience, and no money. My parents haven't called me since the wedding, and her parents are keeping their distance. I have yet to find out any status reports about our old friends, since we've been so enwrapped in each other's marriage, but she had to be rushed to the hospital, complaining about abdominal pains.

"What are we going to do?" The blond asks, frantic. "We may be old, but we're not ready for this responsibility. And it's too late to...do that."

I know she wouldn't have the heart to abort a pregnancy, no matter what _anyone_ says. "Maybe we can. We've been married five years, and I think we need to...add on to the family."

"I'm still not ready."

"We will never be ready, but you can't call it quits now." She frowns, but I know she gets my point. "We can do this. We can, with help or no help."

/

It's not easy.

By the ninth month, we were ready to go over to an adoption clinic. However, when she goes into labor, it's the greatest day of my life. I cry and laugh and faint, and hold my baby girl so tightly and happily. I brought a beautiful baby girl into the world, with my other baby girl who's going through a small afterbirth, and post-partum freak out. We both sign the birth certificate, and I cut the umbilical cord with tears in my eyes, and we're holding our new addition.

Going home is a hassle, since we have no one to share the news with. Things in the past months were crazy. Not only have we been looking extensively at two bedroom apartments, we've tried to organize a baby shower, using the very little group of friends we have. On the day of the baby shower, only our neighbors show up.

It was horrible. We barely have enough baby clothes or necessities, and reading the prenatal books served no purpose.

Things are slowly falling apart, and it has _just_ started.

/

When Trina turns one, we move into another apartment in the Far East, far away from the teenage memories and the people we used to call family and friends. We attended the class reunion, but that proves how much we've fell apart in the career fold. Our worst enemies are famous people, and our two best friends are married, to _each other. _Everyone's having fun, but I can't stand to stay away from the table, because Trina is extra cranky (probably because of the music, or the wild crowd) and I haven't had the _courage_ to talk to anyone.

Everyone approaches us carefully, with warm yet pitiful smiles. No one gloats (not even Frank or Donna, considering that they are _our_ worst enemies) however, they engage in small talk and move on with their lives. That's how a reunion usually is. No one really gloats, unless they're not over their first world problems about being the tortured soul in high school who's a big shot. Everyone bonds over ten years of graduating, hoping to get in contact with each other, but no one ever calls each other.

It's pointless, but it's our time to shine before we move.

The move is hasty. However, when we reach our destination, our exposed legs and arms experience the extreme cold of the northeast, even though it's the middle of March.

"It's so cold!" Kim complains, and pulls out several blankets to protect the napping baby girl in her arms. "Why did we _ever_ agree to Long Island?"

/

The trench coat I wear does _not_ help the harsh conditions of Massapequa.

We've only been here a year, and things are slowly changing for the worse. Arguments were twice a year, and now they're twice a month. It's mostly about whether to enroll Trina in a charter school or a public school, or how I need to get my 'lazy butt up and get a real job', or how I've been gaining weight.

Today, our argument gets so bad that I storm out of the house, and take a walk. Too bad that I'm not used to the weather, which serves her right - maybe a subtropical city would've been good for us. I thought the move would be good for us, but the only thing it produces, is _more_ fights. Before I know it, I can't really see anything or hear anything, but I smell the alcohol brimming in the air, and I wake up on top of a table with the owner poking me awake.

I sigh and stagger back home, with a killer hangover and the thought that my wife is going to _kill_ me for running off and drinking all night.

As soon as I walk in, the house is silent, and I question it. It shouldn't be this silent when it's barely nine in the morning, but it is. I'm scared. What is she doing? What is she thinking? What is she saying?

I receive my answer when I walk inside our room and her bloodshot eyes stare back at me, with worry and relief (with some anger). Worry because I was out all night, and I don't return her calls or texts. Relief because I'm _actually_ alive. Anger, because I look horrible and smell horrible. So much emotions in her facial expression, and it has a lot to do with me.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick all night!" Kim starts complaining, and gets out of the bed to step closer to me. It was then she realized _where_ I was, because her nose wrinkles in disgust. "You were _drinking_?"

"I - yes," I answer, even though it's obvious. "I don't know, I was just walking in the bitter cold air and then I show up at a bar, and drink almost a whole bottle of whiskey."

"_What_ were you thinking? I couldn't sleep, knowing that you made a _stupid_ decision to drink, after we have a stupid argument!"

"Oh, so _now_ it's stupid?" Forget my hangover. I know that we were bound to have this argument sooner or later. "Yesterday, you seemed _so_ _adamant_ that I come back and _demand_ to explain what's going on!"

"Only because you were being stupid and saying that my opinion on the move was a _stupid_ opinion!" The blond argues. "You know me long enough that I don't let _any_ man speak to me like that."

"It doesn't matter, because we're here," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We couldn't find any two bedroom homes, and we sure as hell couldn't deal with whatever vendetta you have against your old classmates."

"They're doing _better_ than us!"

"Then let them do better than us! It doesn't matter what they do; we're doing our own thing! We have a two-year old girl who isn't showing much of the terrible twos, and—"

"—_and_ we're living off of food stamps, because _you_ can't get a job!" Kim interrupts, pulling the welfare card. Of course. It's not easy to find a job when all you have as experience is a martial arts sensei, specializing in taekwondo and jujutsu, with one year of shin-du. The only thing I can do is enroll in police school and hope I can make it as a cop, but I don't like law enforcement. "Shoot, we're _this_ close to losing this apartment, and the reason, is because only one of us is making the income."

I growl under my breath, and throw my hands up in defeat. "I told you, I'm trying—"

"Try harder." With that, she storms out of the bedroom, leaving me to wallow in self-pity and a horrible headache.

_Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough_

/

Two years later, and we get two twin size beds.

It has come to that point where the tension in the house is bad enough for me to sleep on the sofa. On exceptionally hot days, I would wake up by the sprinklers going off. But now, separate beds are good for us.

Trina's going to kindergarten, and she notices the tension between us.

"Mommy, why don't you and Daddy talk anymore?" Do you know how _painful_ it is to have a four-year old ask you that? It's _really_ painful. I don't want Trina mixed up in this mess, especially now that she's at a curious George age. It won't be far when her favorite word is 'why'.

"Daddy and I are fine," she smoothes out the knots in Trina's wild brunette hair, and glares at me for two seconds. "We just have a disagreement."

"Do you still love Daddy?"

"Of course I love Daddy, it's just that—"

"Even two people who love each other can disagree on things," I say, saving her from the awkward silence from choking on words. "Mommy and me will find that spark again."

_We're not broken, just bent_

/

"This isn't working!" Kim shouts, her hair in her hands from frustration. Another day, another argument - they're now as frequent as once a day, and usually six-year-old Trina hears us shouting from her room. "All we _ever_ do is argue, and we never resolve our fights."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I wished it wouldn't come to this—"

"Are you _serious_?" I roar furiously. "Have you sat down to think how this decision would affect us? And what about Trina? She's been asking us—"

"No, that's _not_ what I meant!" Kim, as fiery as she is, roars back, and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I mean...we need to see a counselor."

"Okay, now I'm _actually_ favoring a divorce," I argue. I hate counselors. They always assume they know everything that's wrong with people. They have their noses held high, and watch as a couple argue and argue, and they write whatever they can about their 'main problem'. I hate it. "I don't want that as a last resort."

"Well, we need to do something. I _actually_ want to save this marriage, so we don't end up broken up and miserable."

I sigh, and roll my eyes. "Fine. But, I'm _only_ doing this for Trina."

'_Till we can learn to love again_

/

Today, we sit here and I've already signed. I'm just waiting on her to agree.

Our rings shine dully on the paper, meaning absolutely nothing but shattered dreams and broken hearts. Too many years of counseling breaks us apart, and we had lost our daughter a month ago.

Last week, she's buried six feet under with her friends crying and our eyes shiny with tears. I fiddle with the ring with my fingertips, since our decision was made days after Trina got hit by a speeding car on her way home. With the funeral services on our backs, the death officially killed our marriage, and she throws the ring angrily at me before saying the words I never wanted to hear.

"I want a divorce."

With one last glance, she signs the paper, finalizing our decision forever.

/

"Fell out? You never gave 'us' a chance."

"How was I supposed to know that you marrying me was a mistake?"

"Because it was."

/

fin

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**AN: And now you can hate me. Honestly, I've been contemplating this storyline when I heard the song like five thousand times on Pandora, and I'm not entirely happy with the outcome. Hey, not all marriages stay perfect, and neither do OTP's, so I'm sorry that I caused you guys to rage quit, or cry, or get angry. There's so much kick fics here where they're so happy that someone has to write an angsty, non-happy-ending type.**

**Anyway, glad that's over, because this will be my last kick, _as a relationship_. If I do write them ever again, they will be bestest best friends. I ship them like I ship Auslly - their relationship is strong, but their friendship is stronger. Plus, I don't know if you noticed, but there's a million carbon copies on this site.**

**In other words, goodnight or good morning - where ever you are.**


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